


Give Me What's Left of My Life

by Cassy27



Series: Can You See My Scars? [1]
Category: Iron Fist (TV)
Genre: Angst, Danny is being his annoying self, Drug Addiction, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mention of Harold Meachum, Self-Harm, Sex, Ward fails, Ward tries his best to ignore him, angsty sex, talk of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 20:03:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12196458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassy27/pseuds/Cassy27
Summary: After having found a severed head, Ward has a hard time dealing with the traumatic fall-out of the event. Luckily - or not so luckily for him - Danny is there to try and calm him down. While being resistant at first, never having liked Danny because of own personal reasons, Ward discovers that the young billionaire proves to be an excellent distraction for all the shit life has been throwing his way.





	Give Me What's Left of My Life

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains explicit references and talk about self-harm, parental abuse (both physical and mental), and drug-abuse. If those are triggers for you, please close this story. If you are in search of some serious Ward!Angst and Ward/Danny thrown into the mix, then you have come to the right place! This oneshot is part of a series, so more is to follow. I want to thank Shells19 for being my awesome beta!

It had been a severed head. An actual severed head. Real. Not a prop. Not something made of wax, but of skin and bone and hair and blood, and it had been severed from its body and put up on a spike. Bile rose in his throat just thinking back to it. Ward had always known Danny would mean trouble, but he couldn’t have for one second believed the trouble would be this … insane. It had been put there by The Hand, a secret ninja association, apparently, or so Danny had tried to explain. Honestly, he’d lost Ward at the word ‘ninja’, because really? Ninjas? In New York City?

He walked through the hall of the building he lived in with nothing but determination in his step. He had to get home, had to close the door behind him, leave the world outside, and just forget everything that had happened. Having enough shit to deal with of his own, he didn’t need Danny’s shit added to the pile. Lifting a hand to run through his hair, wishing to smooth it back, Ward purposefully ignored the way it shook.

His painkillers waiting for him inside his apartment would easily solve that problem. And a few of the others he currently had. They’d numb his mind and, with some luck, erase the image that kept up in front of him. Ward swallowed heavily, the idea of getting his hand on some of those pills already quenching the anguish inside of him a little.

“Ward, can you please stop?”

The pills might erase the nuisance stubbornly following him, too. Glancing over his shoulder, Ward watched Danny speed up to catch up with him, which only made Ward quicken his pace. How easy his life would have been if Danny Rand had never returned. Sure, part of him had been glad to find out that his childhood friend – though ‘friend’ was putting it generously – was alive and well, mostly because Joy had been so happy, but he’d mostly dreaded the consequences, and now he was proven right. He’d rub this in Joy’s face if he could, but there was no way he would let his sister get involved in this mess.

“Ward!”

Reaching his place – _fucking finally_ – Ward fished the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door, but he wasn’t fast enough to get into his apartment and shut Danny out. No, somehow the little fucker wiggled his way past the door, past him, and into his sanctuary. Only it wasn’t a sanctuary. Ward had hoped it would be, that once he stepped inside, everything would slide away from him, the pressure of the events dropping from his shoulders, remaining at the door, but none of that happened. Standing there, Danny in front of him with a pleading look on his face, Ward found that none of it disappeared.

He needed his damn pills.

“Can you please talk to me?” Danny asked. His hand reached out to touch him, to curls his fingers around his arm possibly, or lay his hand on his shoulder, the gesture meant to comfort, to calm, but Ward quickly shot out of his way, because like hell was he going to let the guy who started all of this in the first place touch him.

“Dammit, Danny, couldn’t you have stayed in fucking Lunlun?” He moved past the golden-haired boy and toward the drawer standing closest, opening the various cabinets in search of orange bottles. He found none, and Ward cursed under his breath.

“It’s Kunlun,” Danny corrected him – like he even cared – and trailed after him like a lost puppy. “Can you just stop for one moment and look at me?” When Ward moved to the next drawer, Danny called out his name, but Ward refused to grant him any of his attention.

Maybe if he ignored him, Danny might just go away and leave him be.

“Aha.” Having found a few pills tucked away underneath some papers on the table, Ward gathered three of them in the palm of his hand, ready to swallow them down without any water or alcohol – he’d gotten good at that months ago – only for a hand to latch onto his wrist, preventing him from taking anything at all.

“What are those?” Danny demanded.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” The look Ward sent Danny’s way was close to scorching fire, but Danny merely eyed him steadily, his grip unrelenting, his determination fucking ruthless. “This isn’t any of your business, Monk-boy. Now let go of my wrist.”

“Ward, what you saw was traumatizing,” Danny said, scooping the three pills out of Ward’s hand, ignoring the frustrated eye-roll that it earned him. “I was trained for this, but you …”

Yanking his wrist free – he only managed to free it because Danny allowed it, which felt like a sucker-punch to his gut – Ward spun around again and strode around the table. “I’m just gonna pretend like none of this has happened,” he said. “It’ll be easier to do so, however, with some pills and a few bottles of whiskey.”

“I’m not leaving.” Danny was already trailing after him again. “I’m not leaving you like this.”

“This is _me_ , Danny, in case you’ve failed to notice before!” Ward grounded to a halt, Danny nearly crashing into him. “My life is already a mess for reasons you’ll never understand–” Like a supposedly dead father constantly ringing him up and forcing him to perform tasks no father should ever ask of his son, “–so a severed head is just something I’ll add to the pile. And I’ll deal with it however I see fit.”

Spinning on his heels, Ward charged forward again, hoping that his words landed somewhere inside Danny’s rainbow-and-lollipop-filled head, only to fail to notice the glass door separating the living area from the hallway. Ward crashed against the glass which shattered on impact, the shards falling down around him, cutting his face and body as he tumbled down to the floor.

“ _Fuck_!”

Laying on his back, staring up at the pristinely white ceiling, Ward gasped for air as pain wrecked through his body, every inch of his skin seemingly stinging and burning. And then Danny’s face swam into his vision, and Ward all but thrashed him arms upward in order to scratch those perfect blue eyes right out of their eye sockets.

“Are you okay?”

_What?_ What kind of a stupid question was that? Ward tried to push himself into a sitting position, but his muscles protested and his arms nearly gave away underneath him, but Danny grabbed hold of his shoulders and pushed him up. It seemed easy for Danny, to support the weight of an adult man, and Ward cursed his superhuman strength. Or maybe Danny was just good at hiding the strain. Whatever it was, Ward decided that he didn’t care.

There was no other choice but to let Danny guide him toward the nearest chair, though, Ward’s knees giving out a few times on the short way over there. But Danny was there, holding him, his grip firm yet gentle. Which was infuriating. Ward wasn’t a porcelain doll that needed to be nurtured.

“Can you please calm down now?” Danny asked, one eyebrow quirked up.

Sitting down, Ward felt slightly less nauseous. He raised his hands, only to find various cuts bleeding, the blood dripping from his fingers. He didn’t want to know how his face looked. He’d never considered himself a vain man, but the truth remained that looks mattered, even in the business world. He knew there was something aloof about his features, about the sharp lines of his face, and Ward didn’t yet want to know what he would look like now. Did he need stitches? Shit, he didn’t want to go to a doctor.

“Can I have those pills now?”

Danny eyed him skeptically.

“I’m in pain here!”

Sighing, Danny nodded and handed him back the three pills he’d snatched away from him only moments ago. Then, much to Ward’s surprise, Danny disappeared from the living room, but Ward didn’t care where he went. No, he simply used the opportunity to gather himself and order his thoughts. Childhood abuse, supposedly dead abuser not dead, severed head, and now a slashed up body and face. The list just kept growing and growing. What more could he take?

Much to his disappointment, Danny returned seconds later, various medical supplies in hand.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” Ward wanted to push himself off of the barstool, but his legs weren’t obeying. Ward hissed at the sharp pain flaring up when he moved too much.

“Hold still,” Danny said. With one smooth gesture, he tore Ward’s shirt in half, revealing half a dozen cuts on his torso. Ward only briefly glanced down, but the sight of the cuts made him feel sick – or sicker than he was already feeling – so he closed his eyes and braced himself, because yes, there it was, ten cold fingers against his warm body. “None of the cuts look like they need to be stitched together.”

“I’m not going to a doctor anyway,” Ward said.

It was funny that the physical pain drove away the image of the severed head. Then again, pain had always been a good distraction.

“I’d assumed so,” Danny replied. “I meant _I_ don’t have to stitch you up.”

At that, Ward’s eyes flew open again.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t worry,” Danny had the nerve to flash some sort of twisted grin at him, “I’m just going to apply some disinfectant, patch you up, and then I’m out of your hair, okay?”

“Oh, I walk through a glass door and _then_ you’re willing to leave?” The sarcasm in his voice was a bit much and it earned him a strict look from Monk-boy, but Ward just couldn’t help himself. If it weren’t for Danny, none of this would have happened. Which was beginning to be a mantra inside Ward’s mind, and from now on, he would blame everything on him. It seemed easy. See a severed head? Danny’s fault – that one _was_ actually his fault. Walk through a glass door? Danny’s fault. His favorite restaurant closed? Danny’s fault. Rain during the day? Danny’s fault.

“If I’d known that’s what it would take, I would have walked through it sooner.”

“Don’t make a joke of this,” Danny chastised him.

Ward grunted when Danny began to apply the salve. He tossed his head back and closed his eyes. The pills were beginning to take effect and, while the pain didn’t entirely go away, it did numb his mind, if only a little. It took the edge off, blurred a few of his darker memories, and ended the tremble that seemed to constantly possess his hands. Ward wasn’t stupid, he knew Danny had seen it, that that was why he’d taken the pills away from him in the first place, but Danny wasn’t his brother – thank _God!_ He wasn’t even related, so really, he had no right making any decisions for him.

But Danny did believe to have that right, because he was the freaking Iron Fist or something. But that wasn’t true, was it? Ward groaned, not because Danny touched a particularly sensitive spot near his shoulder, but because the truth was that Danny considered him to be his friend. After all the shit he’d put him through – and he’d put him through some real, deep, messy shit, a certain frog-filled sandwich coming to mind – Danny still cared about him.

It was what made him infuriatingly likeable.

“There,” Danny said after a while – Ward didn’t know whether it had been seconds or minutes or hours that had passed. “Now you should heal more nicely.”

Ward righted his head again and opened his eyes. He’d expected Danny to have stepped back, to clear the medical tools and prepare to leave, but he was still standing directly in front of him, between his knees, with his gaze fixed on Ward’s torso. When his hand reached out to touch Ward this time, Ward didn’t pull back, couldn’t, or he’d fall off of the barstool, but he also _wouldn’t_ , curious to see what the hell Danny was thinking.

“How did you get these?” Danny asked, the tip of his finger tracing a few scars lined between the new cuts.

“Maybe this isn’t the first time I’ve walked through a glass door,” Ward replied. He couldn’t very well tell him the truth. One, he might not believe him. Two, the truth _was_ rather unbelievable. And three, Ward himself wasn’t ready yet to be faced with it, despite some of the scars already being years old. Memories of Harold beating the shit out of him, sometimes using his hands, sometimes using something else, washed over him like a cold wave, shaking him.

Ward sucked in a deep, but unsteady breath.

“Do you ever wonder what our lives would have been like if my plane had never crashed?” Danny asked, eyes up suddenly, locking with Ward’s dark brown ones. Danny’s gaze stood open, filled with curiosity, with unanswered questions, and Ward couldn’t help but wonder what it was that Danny saw in his gaze. Pain? Panic? Pride? Paranoia? Something else starting with a P?

“It wasn’t your plane.”

“You know what I mean,” Danny snapped – the first sign of irritation. It was nice knowing that Monk-boy possessed negative emotions, too. “I keep wondering if my parents would still be alive today if there had never been a crash. I could be living a carefree life as an arrogant billionaire’s son and, who knows, we might have been friends.”

_Huh_.

“You’re saying you don’t consider us friends?” Ward certainly didn’t consider them to be that, but he’d always assumed that Danny did. Even back when they’d been only children, even when he’d been nothing but a nasty, annoying boy who constantly bullied the golden-haired heir to Mr. Rand, he’d assumed Danny thought them friends. “That’s hurtful, Monk-boy,” he said with feigned shock in his voice.

“I didn’t mean–” Danny stopped himself and sighed, fingers momentarily reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Do you ever wonder?” He repeated the question.

“Yes,” Ward replied. There was no point in denying. He wondered every day. He woke up with the question on his mind and he went to sleep with it. Because what if? Mr. and Mrs. Rand had always been nice to him, even though Ward was sure they suspected his nastiness to their son. Maybe they also suspected Harold’s nastiness. Maybe if they had never died, Harold would have.

He might have been free.

He might have actually liked the carefree and arrogant son of a billionaire. But while Ward often wondered, while he often indulged in pointless, senseless fantasies, he was also old enough to know that they were just that; fantasies. They would never know and no matter what happened, none of the shit Ward had lived through would ever go away, would ever melt like snow before the sun. No, he would carry the weight with him, forever. It was a depressing thought and Ward once again longed for solitude. If only so he could go in search of his pills again without anyone – yes, you, Danny – trying to stop him.

“Would these be gone if the plane had never crashed?” Danny picked up Ward’s arm and twisted it over.

Too late, Ward pulled his arm back. Danny had made clear what he meant. Cursing, Ward pressed his arm against his chest, ignoring the sting that was brought on because of it, and hid the scars there.

“What the fuck, Danny?” His hands balled into fists, and Ward wanted to push Danny away, but again the little fucker proved maddeningly strong.

Danny caught his wrists and held them in between them. “Will you ever tell me what’s happened to you?” He asked.

Ward knew it was pointless to try and free his hands. “I thought you said we weren’t friends,” Ward spat angrily. “Why would I divulge my secrets to you then?” He tugged at his arms, not to free them, but to let Danny know that he was done with this, that he wanted to be _let go_. And Danny did, releasing his grip, but not moving away. “What do you want from me, asshole?”

“You’ve always hated me,” Danny said. “I never understood why, but I do now.”

“Did Kunlun open those pretty eyes of yours then?” Ward asked bitterly.

“You always thought I lived a perfect little life,” Danny continued. “Loving parents who doted on me, encouraged me to grow, guided me, never once laid a finger on me. Did you think that the plane going down was a good thing? That I deserved it? That maybe your life would be a little less worse?”

Ward’s eyes had turned to narrow slits. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Did my return anger you?” Danny was merciless. The words that spilled from his mouth felt like slaps to Ward’s face. Or more cuts to his skin. “I must be a constant reminder of the life you never had. I must be a sore.”

“I don’t understand why my sister likes you so much,” Ward growled.

“You’re avoiding me,” Danny continued, heat in his voice. Ward had never seen him like this. “You’re avoiding everything I say, because it’s all true, isn’t it?” Danny’s gaze bore into Ward’s. “As a child, I was ignorant. Then again, I was just a child. You bullied me, Ward, and I never understood why. Why would you take pleasure in hurting me? I’d never done anything to you. But you never took pleasure in it, did you? You just couldn’t help yourself.” The heat disappeared from Danny’s eye just as fast as it had appeared. Ward was too shocked to move, to put a stop to this. “You were in pain, so I had to be, too, if only a little. Because the world isn’t fair, the balance is never equally tipped, but you’d make it a little fairer, anyway you could.”

Breathing hard, Ward swallowed heavily and tried not to give into the rage that burned through him. There was no telling what would happen if he were to give in and he sure as hell refused to be held responsible then. He doubted he could kick the shit of Danny anyway, not anymore.

“Get out,” he fumed. His hands were tight fists beside him.

“Don’t you see, Ward, that you’re not alone?” Danny asked.

“Get the _fuck_ out!”

“Your sister is worried sick about you,” Danny said, head shaking, nothing but determination in his voice. “You don’t think she knows about your addiction? She wants to help you and she has no idea how, because you lock her out. And just as you lock her out, you’re trying to lock me out, but I won’t let it happen. The truth hurts, yes, it feels like a goddamn spear through your gut sometimes, but you still gotta face it, Ward.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about!” When Ward shoved Danny back, Danny stumbled, finally giving Ward the space he needed to jump off of the barstool and distance himself from him. Breathing had become impossible and the shaking of his hands had returned. Ward felt sick, bile once again rising in his throat. “You have no idea of the mess that’s my life!”

“Then tell me about it,” Danny said, voice calm again, serene, and it was enough to have Ward charge forward, grabbing hold of Danny’s shoulders, shaking him.

Danny did nothing to stop him.

“Tell you about it?” Ward was screaming, the only remedy he knew of that worked against fear. Against hysteria. “You want me to tell you about all the things Harold has done to me in my life?” His nails were digging into Danny’s flesh, but if he were hurting him, Danny sure as hell didn’t show. “You want me to tell you about all the beatings I’ve taken in my life? You want me to tell you about what it feels like to have a baseball bat break your bones? Or what it feels like when a vase shatters against the back of your head? When a belt tears your skin apart?”

Pushing Danny away, using enough force to bruise him, Ward spun around, fully intending on storming out of there – because if Danny wasn’t going to leave, then he would – but his legs gave out from underneath him and Ward felt himself crashing to the floor.

It was a strange sensation. He knew that he was falling, he knew that his elbow took the brunt of the fall, that his hip knocked hard against the cold, tile floor, but he felt none of it. His vision had gone dark and the world swam around him, up becoming down, and down up.

The last thing he heard, was Danny calling out his name.

~/~

He was lying in bed. Ward let his hands wander around him, in search of something, anything, but found nothing. His fingers curled around silk sheets instead. The image of Danny dragging him into the bedroom, into this bed, played in front of his eyes, and it made Ward groan, because he couldn’t think of anything _more_ embarrassing than that. Yes, it was _more_ embarrassing than walking face-first into a glass door.

“Ward?”

Fuck.

Danny was still there. Eyes fluttering open, needing a moment to adjust to the faint light burning beside him, Ward slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, back resting against the headboard. Thankfully, there were no cuts there, so sitting up didn’t hurt. Much. There was still the case of dozens of other cuts, some small, some big, and he did actually have a large bruise near his hip – Thanks, Harold – but, thankfully, Danny hadn’t taken off his pants. Hell, should he have tried, Ward would have killed him.

“How are you feeling?”

“What kind of stupid question is that?” Ward bit out.

Danny merely stared at him. “You have a nasty bruise.”

“You pulled down my fucking pants?” Ward belted.

“What?”

“ _What?_ ”

Oh shit, that was right. He had another nasty bruise right at the bottom of his back. Sighing, Ward threw his head back, uncaring of the ache it earned him when his head hit the wood a bit too hard, because the truth was that everything hurt already, inside and out, so an ache was the least of his concerns.

“Why are you still here, Danny?” He asked, tiredly. “I think we’ve established the fucked-up relationship we share. Or lack of relationship.” Eyes fluttering shut, Ward wished the same darkness that had engulfed him before would engulf him again. Hell, if Danny would actually leave him be, he could take simply the right amount of pills and alcohol to achieve just that.

“You’re my friend.”

When Ward opened one eye to look at him, doubtful, Danny shook his head, golden curls bouncing around that pretty face of his. Well, less-pretty face now. There was a fading bruise near his temple and a nearly healed cut on his chin. He also had a scar running down his nose. It was light, barely visible, but Ward had noticed.

“Don’t pretend,” Danny said, voice low. “Despite the mess that we’re in, we’ve always been in, I’ve always considered you to be my friend.”

“That’s nice, Danny,” Ward mumbled. Unfortunately, sentiment brought no one anywhere. Sentiment held people back. Emotions made people weak. It was one of the first lessons Harold had taught him. Ward couldn’t remember how old he’d been. Eight? Ten? It didn’t matter.

Throwing the silk sheet away from his body, Ward tossed his feet across the bed, feet touching the cold floor and sending a shudder through his body.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I need a shower,” Ward said, fists pressing against the mattress beneath him. Hell, who was he kidding? Even sitting down, he could tell that he wouldn’t have enough strength in his legs to carry him, but being his idiotic, stubborn self, Ward had to at least try.

And Danny, being his arrogant, selfless self, was there to catch him right before he tumbled to the floor.

Back on the bed, Ward’s head dropped forward, hands uselessly laying in his lap.

“If I can’t take a shower, I can at least try to sleep.” His voice sounded unlike his own. It was usually very gravelly, deep and demanding, but now it just sounded weak. Harold would beat him for it should he hear. _But Harold isn’t here_ , Ward reminded himself. Sleep was out of the question, too, though. But while Ward knew this, Danny didn’t. If he could just get the stubborn asshole to leave him, Ward could find some pills and an opened bottle somewhere and force his mind into oblivion.

“I’m sorry about everything Harold has done to you,” Danny said softly.

“Don’t,” Ward groaned. Eyes squeezed shut, Ward let his head loll back, his neck giving a crack as he did so. “Let’s just forget that any of this has happened and move on.” There was a shift in the air, which was the only reason Ward forced himself to open his eyes again, and, to his surprise, Danny was kneeling in front of him. The guy moved ghostly silent. It unnerved Ward.

“Back in Kunlun, I often thought of you,” Danny said. He was looking up at Ward with impossibly blue eyes, and Ward wondered if they’d always been that color. He couldn’t remember. Then again, he hadn’t always paid this much attention to the guy. Except when, as a teenager, he was fantasizing about him – no, not the dirty kind. It usually involved murder. But he’d been only a child then. An angry, messed-up child. Now he was an angry, messed-up adult. “I was jealous of you,” Danny continued, drawing Ward from his mind. “You were here, with Joy, with your mother, with your father. And I was there, all alone. I envied you.”

Ward let out a burdened sigh, not in the mood to listen to Danny’s sad sob-story. He had enough to deal with of his own, but Danny didn’t give him the chance to say anything, to ask him to leave again, because being the stubborn asshole that he was, he put a hand on Ward’s knee and squeezed, ever so gently, just hard enough to momentarily confuse him.

“Little did I know about the truth,” Danny muttered.

Shaking his head, wishing this day to end, Ward folded his hands together in his lap and glanced at Danny. “What are you saying?” He asked.

“That I’m here for you,” Danny said, only conviction in his voice, but Ward had learned the hard way not to trust anyone when they said such a thing. He’d told a friend – or someone who he believed to be a friend – the truth once and their friendship had shattered. If he were to tell Joy, the same thing would happen. Also, there was the small complication known as a-father-who-was-supposed-to-be-dead-but-really-wasn’t. Joy would never believe him.

“Believe it or not, Ward, but I’m your friend, I’ve always been, and I’m not disappearing on you again.”

Ward was beginning to feel angry again, the emotion sweeping through him like a draft. He wanted to pull back from Danny’s touch, but he physically couldn’t, his muscles seemingly frozen in place. Leave it to Danny to presume and assume ideas in his head as facts. They had never been friends. They _would_ never be friends. After everything that had happened, after all the shit Ward had put him through, the notion was simply ridiculous.

“I’d make all these–” Carefully, Danny picked up Ward’s hands and turned them around for a second time that evening, palms facing up, “–disappear.”

Last time Danny had done this, Ward had pulled back and shoved him away, but he lacked the energy to do the same now. He was tired, just so fucking exhausted, but Danny didn’t seem to get any of the hints. He just wouldn’t go away. Mr. Rand’s son had always been nothing but an annoyance.

“They’re scars, Danny,” Ward said. It was time Danny opened his eyes to the truth, it was time that he left behind his innocence and stepped with both feet into the real world. “Do you know the purpose of scars?” He paused a moment, honestly curious to hear if Danny had some sentimental, naïve response, but for the first time, Danny seemed speechless. “They’re meant to remind you of how you got them in the first place. A child burns his hands on a stove, later looks at his scars, and thinks ‘never again’.” Ward raised his hands a little higher, forcing Danny to look at his skin, to really _look_ , not just glance, but actually _see_ the numerous white lines running along the inside of his wrists and arms. “Do you see how many I have?”

“I’d make them disappear, too, if I could.” And there it was, the sentimental, naïve response Ward had been waiting for. “I wonder what goes on in that head of yours,” Danny said, staring up at Ward with only fascination in his gaze. Ward couldn’t help but feel drawn in. He couldn’t break the connection, couldn’t bring himself to look away. “I’d numb your thoughts, too, if I could.”

“Trust me,” Ward said quietly, still looking at Danny, still being looked at, “I’ve found plenty of ways to numb my thoughts.”

“I know,” Danny sighed. He reached up and folded a lock of hair that had fallen before Ward’s eyes behind his ear again. Ward pulled back, finally, but when Danny’s fingers slipped down his cheek, Ward found himself frozen yet again, but this time it wasn’t a draft sweeping through him, it wasn’t cold and upsetting and frightening. No, this time, it was something unbearably hot and intense, and Ward inhaled sharply, lips parting.

“Let me distract you for once.”

Danny’s hand slipped from Ward’s cheek to his neck where a vein was undoubtable visibly pulsating. Ward could feel his heart beat erratically within his chest, as if trying to leap out, towards Danny. It was frustrating and maddening, because this was Danny and he’d always hated Danny – only that wasn’t true, was it? It had never been true. He had many sentiments concerning Monk-boy, a lot of negative ones, but not one of them was hate. There were plenty good things about him, too.

“What are you doing?” He asked breathlessly.

“Like I said,” Danny rose to his feet, but instead of moving away, instead of granting Ward the peace he’d been coveting all evening, he moved closer, the mattress dipping beneath his knees as he straddled Ward’s thighs. “I’ve always been your friend, Ward, and you need help. Let me help you.” His hands rested against Ward’s chest, a welcome touch, and Ward leaned into Danny, the heat of his body already folding around him like a warm blanket. Comforting.

“Let me help you,” Danny repeated, softly, invitingly, pleadingly.

Their faces were only inches away from each other. Ward could feel Danny’s hot breath on his lips. All that he had to do, was tilt his head back a little and press their lips together, but Ward couldn’t bring himself to do so. He couldn’t bring himself to involve Danny in this mess – innocent and naïve Danny Rand. Only that wasn’t Danny, was it? Not anymore.

So fuck it all.

Hands gripping Danny’s shirt, knuckles turning white with how tightly he clung to him, Ward closed the distance between them and kissed him, moaning at the sensation of Danny’s hands brushing down his naked chest. Danny pushed him back, and Ward let him, his back against the silk sheets, Danny on top of him. Danny’s tongue tracing the seam of his lips, and who would have thought, Monk-boy was actually a great kisser.

Eyes fluttering shut, Ward let everything happen to him, accepting it, Danny’s touches washing over him like a giant wave taking everything with it in its wake. It kinda stung, though, knowing that Danny was right, that he _was_ a good distraction. And Ward drank it all up like the addict that he was, only he’d found a new drug.

Danny’s lips wandered down Ward’s neck, to the dip of his collarbone, pressing kisses against his skin, and Ward leaned into each and every touch Danny offered, the tips of his fingers trailing the sharp lines of his hips. All Ward seemed to be able to do, however, was hold on. He wanted to return Danny’s kindness, wanted to touch and feel him, wanted to kiss him, anywhere he could, curious as to how Monk-boy felt and tasted, but Danny’s ministrations paralyzed him. Ward was unable to do anything but undergo and wait for the pain to start.

Only no pain would come. Ward had to tell himself, again and again, that Danny didn’t want to hurt him. On the contrary. All Ward needed to do, was enjoy himself, but his mind continuously drifted to a certain pair of hands gripping him tightly, beating him, cutting him, breaking him. Eyes snapping wide open, Ward unable to stop the flood of memories taken hold of him, he gasped for air that never seemed to reach his lungs, and his hands searched around him for anything to hold onto.

They found Danny’s hands.

“Let me take care of you,” Danny whispered into his ear. His voice drew Ward from his mind and his eyes found Danny’s steady gaze. “If you want to stop, you only need to say so.”

“No,” Ward quickly said. “Don’t stop.”

There was a brief smile before Danny dipped his head again and kissed Ward’s chest. Then he moved further down. His tongue flicked out against Ward’s nipple, and Ward groaned, the feeling it elicited running through his veins like electricity.

His body felt unlike his own, alien, because Ward couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good. When Danny’s hands wandered toward the edge of Ward’s pants, his breath momentarily hitched within his lungs, and Danny halted, but Ward eagerly urged him onward. Danny unzipped them and pushed them down, freeing Ward’s hard length, and Ward was torn between tossing his head back against the mattress and just let everything overcome him, but also wanting to witness Danny Rand take the tip of his cock into his mouth, a sight he’d never thought he’d see.

And what a beautiful sight it was. Danny’s head began to bob up and down, his cheeks hollowing as he applied suction, at which point Ward lost control of himself and his body seemed to sink into the mattress. He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned at the feeling of Danny’s tongue tracing a thick vein running along his length. His hands brushed the inside of Ward’s thighs, and Ward felt guilty for neglecting the billionaire’s son – though he supposed Danny was ‘the billionaire’ now.

“Danny, Monk-boy,” he moaned. He wasn’t really in control of himself anymore, which he liked, which he needed. Danny responded by kissing Ward’s stomach while looking at him from underneath dark eyelashes. “Can I– I want–” He couldn’t form coherent sentences anymore.

Danny kissed him and Ward could taste himself, which he didn’t like, wanting to taste Danny instead. There were so many things he wanted right now – taste Danny, feel him, touch him, hear him. Ward curled his arms around Danny’s waist and twisted them around, Ward on top now, looking down at Danny – Danny’s whose face was illuminated by nothing more than the pale light coming from the nightlight. It cast shadows across his face.

Ward brushed his fingers through Danny’s curls.

“Can I have you?” He finally managed to ask.

Danny’s body arched upward, their skin touching, scorching hot, and Ward could feel Danny’s still-clothed erection against his own.

“Yes, you can,” Danny said, voice rough with want and excitement. “Please tell me you have lube nearby.”

Of course he had lube nearby – which man hadn’t? Reaching into the top drawer of his nightstand, Ward withdrew a vial of clear Vaseline and applied a generous amount of it onto his length while Danny got rid of his clothes. Ward hadn’t noticed until now how much he’d still been wearing, and it bugged him that Danny only now got rid of them. If he’d noticed before, he would have torn them from Danny’s skin with pleasure. But it was too late now, so instead Ward returned his attention to Danny’s now gloriously naked body beneath him. For a moment, he was lost counting the different scars he found, but then Danny pulled up his legs and folded his hands behind Ward’s neck, pulling him down for another kiss.

“Don’t stare,” Danny whispered to him.

After coating his fingers with Vaseline, too, Ward reached down and slipped one finger between Danny’s legs, finding his puckered hole and applying pressure, but not enough to enter him, not yet. Danny whimpered oh-so prettily beneath him and pushed his hips down.

“Don’t toy.”

“Fuck, you’re demanding,” Ward grinned, and just as Danny parted his lips to reply, to snap or reprimand him, Ward pushed in one finger, drawing nothing but a stolen breath from Danny’s perfectly red lips. Monk-boy looked good like this, open beneath him, his mind having grinded to a halt, lost for words. It was nice to be able to shut him up for once.

Smiling, Ward leaned down and sucked a small hicky in the crook of Danny’s neck.

“M-more,” Danny breathed.

Danny’s arms were wrapped around Ward’s neck, keeping him close. His legs were locked around Ward’s hips. Who was Ward to deny him? Adding a second finger, Danny’s back arched off of the bed, his hands running through Ward’s hair, tugging at it, but never too hard, never hurting. Ward was slowly losing his mind again, not to memories, not to negativity, but to Danny. He wanted him now, _needed_ him, and he would have him. After scissoring Danny for a moment, stretching him, he added a third digit, finger-fucking him and drawing the sweetest moans from his lips, until he thought Danny would lose his mind along with him. Then he pulled back his hand and, before Danny could cry out in protest, Ward claimed his lips, kissing him, hard and hot, tongue sweeping out to meet Danny’s.

Reaching between them, Ward brought his cock to Danny’s entrance and, after receiving an affirmative nod from the younger man, he pushed in. Danny was hot and tight around him, and Ward let out a shuddering breath, his mind grinding to a halt. One hand clasped together with Danny’s above his head, his other firmly planted into the mattress, needing to keep himself upright, because he couldn’t lose this position, refused to lose the sight of Danny open and willing beneath him.

“You okay?” He asked, needing to be sure.

“Yeah, just …” Danny’s fingers were curled tightly around Ward’s. “Keep going.”

Ward did, hips moving rhythmically, with the beat of his heart. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with labored breathing and passionate moans. Ward pressed his face against the crook of Danny’s neck as he fucked him, worshipped him, adored him, and whispered sweet words of gratitude against his sweet, sweaty skin.

Danny’s hole tightened around him as he came, head arched back, exposing his neck, and Ward couldn’t resist the temptation of sucking another small bruise into his skin there.

He came not much later, as he fucked Danny through his orgasm, reveling at the shouts of pleasure filling the bedroom. It had been a while since Ward heard such marvelous things and he branded them in his mind, never wanting to forget them, never wanting to forget that, besides nagging, Danny could make such sweet and smutty sounds.

When his muscles lost strength, Ward pulled out and collapsed besides Monk-boy, eyes fixed on the white ceiling above them, chest heaving, heart beating vigorously against his ribs. Whatever he’d expected this evening to bring him, this wasn’t it. Hand resting on top of his stomach, Ward lifted his other arm and stared at the scars and cuts still there, for a moment having expected them to be gone, but life wasn’t that easy. It would never be.

“Whatever the reason for this,” he said, arm dropping down the silk sheets again, “I don’t care.”

“You know the reason,” Danny replied.

Ward glanced sideways and found Danny laying with his eyes closed. His skin glistened, muscles taut, the lines of his body sharp. He was gorgeous. Annoyingly so. Ward didn’t reply, didn’t say what was really on his mind – that no one ever did anything without a selfish reason – and instead hummed.

Silence settled between them, their heavy breathing evening out and growing quiet. Ward closed his eyes, welcoming the darkness that slowly claimed his mind and body.

Sleep.

He’d rest well tonight.

“Ward?”

“Hmm?”

A hand brushed his hair back, but Ward lacked the energy to lock gazes with Danny again. He was exhausted, the events of the day leaving their final mark, dragging him under.

He barely heard Danny say ‘goodnight’ before he fell asleep, dreaming of nothing for the first time in a long time.

 


End file.
